Just Try Not To Think About It
by BlendableLion
Summary: Phil has a best friend. Phil is hurt. Dan helps Phil.
1. Chapter 1

"D'ya want to to watch a movie, Phil?" I heard Dan say from his spot on the brightly colored beanbag that he was laying on.

"Depends on the movie..." I say, thinking about the High School Musical marathon that he made me watch the other day.

"Ponyo?"

I smile and nod my head at him. He goes to his room and pulls out fuzzy blankets and pillows and tosses them on the couch. I sprawl out across the couch and tangle my long, spidery legs in the material. Dan laughs, and pulls out a large bag of chips and other various junk food from our normally close-to-empty cupboards.

Oh, no.

I keep the smile plastered onto my face as me lays beside me with the bag of chips. "Yay for diabetes!" he says, stuffing a handful of chips into his mouth and passing me the bag. I nervously let a chip pass my lips and down my throat. "Don't eat all of them." He says, sarcastically.

The room is fulled with the light from the brightly-colored movie, and I nestle down in the cushions, making myself comfortable. Dan pushes a plastic box at me and says "I got these for you, I know how much you love them."

Inside the box is chocolate chip cookies, still slightly warm from the bakery that is less than 10 minutes away from us. "Thanks, Dan," I say, feeling slightly guilty "You're the greatest."

I eat one cookie. Then another. I feel disgusting, I can feel myself gaining weight with each crumb. I quickly excuse myself and dart to the bathroom, stick my fingers as far down my throat as I can, and throw up the contents of my stomach. I don't stop until I taste blood.

I stare at myself in the mirror. "You're disgusting, you know that?"

"Phil, are you alright?" Dan say, tapping the door nervously.

"Yeah, Dan I'm fine."

I wash my hands and brush my teeth, hoping the get the taste of guilt, blood and stomach acid out of my mouth. I pull down the long sleeves of my jacket to cover up the assorted red lines that decorate my arms and body.

Dan's still standing at the bathroom door as I walk out.

"Dan, you scared the life out of me!" I say, my heart beating quickly as my best friend stares up at me.

Dan doesn't answer. He's staring at the revealed flesh that's at the bottom of my arm. There's a bright red scar there, red blood caked around the edges. "Who did this?"

I pull the sleeve down more, and push past Dan. "It's nothing."

"No, it's something, what happened, Phil?" Dan says, pushing me down on the couch and rolling up my sleeve. He gasps as he takes in what used to be the unmarked skin on my limbs. "What the fuck..."

"Dan, I'm fine, can you stop?"

"No, Phil, you're not fine," He says firmly "Take off your shirt, I already know that there's more."

I sigh, and pull off my sweater, then the light T-shirt that's underneath it. Dan's eyes look blank as he stares in hurt and bewilderment at my torso.

A single tear falls out of my eye, and Dan pulls me in for a tight hug. "Phil, we're going to get through this, and no matter what I'll be by your side."

"Promise?"

"Promise."


	2. Chapter 2

Dan's fingers are lazily tracing random patterns on my back. The sun from the open window warms the bed that we're lying on. Everything is silent and peaceful. So much has happened in the past month, everything going by in a blur.

With Dan's help and never-ending supply of love and support, I've slowly recovered from anorexia. I'm at a healthy and happy weight and the assorted scars that played on my skin are gone, the only thing that remains of them is raised and bumpy skin.

I'm at the happiest I've ever been in my life, I have a beautiful and wonderful boyfriend, I'm going out and seeing more friends and finally letting myself indulge in the finer things in life. Youtube and the radio-show are going so much better then I could of ever hoped that they'd been, everything is absolutely perfect.

Like a blank piece of paper that had nothing wrong with it, I'd been drawn on, ripped at random and forgotten. You can do all you want to the paper, but when you finally smooth it out and try to erase the markings, it's still usable to do with what you please, but it will always have the crinkles and faded lines. Whatever anyone does to my paper will always remain, and sometimes it can be forgotten, but it will always be there, a story etched into protesting skin.

Closing my eyes and tucking my head under Dan's, I lay in the wonderful morning light perfectly at ease with my crazy life. Hopefully what i had been through would never happen again, nor to anyone else.

Life and I had come to an agreement, and this was the perfect outcome.


End file.
